This was said with so much earnestness, and apparent sincerity, that all five of the chums now regarded their host intently. "How soon is that going to happen?" Greg laughingly inquired. "Within a week," Alonzo Hibbert replied as seriously as ever. He glanced at Greg with a look full of friendly interest. Tom Reade snorted, almost audibly, then drew down the corners of his mouth to keep himself from laughing outright. Dave, too, took another swift look at their smiling young host. "I wish you were a sure prophet," murmured Greg trying hard not to laugh. "I am," declared Mr. Hibbert seriously. "Mind what I tell you, Greg Holmes, within a week you will know yourself to be a millionaire." "Real money?" demanded Greg. "Real money," nodded Hibbert positively. "Or else it will be in stocks, bonds or real estate that could be converted into real money." By this time, Tom, Dave and the others, Greg included, had taken Alonzo Hibbert's measure or believed they had. Their host, then, was a lunatic. A harmless and very amiable lunatic, to be sure, yet none the less the victim of a deranged mind. "Eaten up your creams?" asked Mr. Hibbert, glancing around. "Then we'll have another apiece." He signaled the waitress, giving the order. "Don't ask me---yet---how I know," continued their host, turning once more to Greg Holmes, "but you're going to find yourself a millionaire within a week. I know it. It's all in your ear." As he spoke Hibbert gave Greg's right ear a playful tweak. "All in Greg's ear?" muttered Tom Reade under his breath. "I knew that from the outset." "All in your ear, Holmes!" Hibbert repeated. "Yet it will all be very real money. Oh, won't you be astonished!" "I---I think I shall, when the wealth rains down upon me," murmured Greg, now afraid to raise his eyes to meet the mocking glance that Darry was sending toward him. At this moment the stranger of the railway station entered the room, then came toward the table. "Mr. Hibbert, here is the man who was inquiring for you at the station," Tom announced in a low voice. Hibbert turned, glancing inquiringly at the stranger. "Are you Mr. Hibbert?" asked the latter. "Yes," nodded the man in the four-quart hat. "My name is Colquitt," explained the stranger. "I am from-----" "Er---yes, quite so," murmured Mr. Hibbert. "And here is the boy. He is named Greg Holmes. Do you observe his right ear?" "I do," Colquitt assented, after a swift, keen glance. "He is the boy," Hibbert repeated after a moment's hesitation. "Where do you live, young man?" asked Colquitt. Greg supplied the name of his street and the number. "Name of your family physician?" went on the stranger. "Dr. Bentley." "Has he always been your family physician?" "Ever since I can remember," Greg declared. "Thank you," and Colquitt turned to leave. "Won't you stay and have an ice with us?" urged Hibbert. "Too much to do," replied Colquitt, shaking his head and walking out.